Blood Rising
by otherhawk
Summary: AU as of DMC. Sequel to Sparrow's Fall. A tragedy on the day of Will and Elizabeth's wedding turns friends against each other. Will they put aside their differences to concentrate on a common foe?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or anything you recognise.  
  
This is a sequel to a story called Sparrow's Fall. I would advise you to read that first. If you choose not to, these facts may help – Jack's compass was taken by a man named Stenson, Will and Elizabeth are due to be married, Jack and the crew have permission to attend from Commodore Norrington as long as they behave and Jack calls himself Smith.  
  
Thanks go to Julie for betaing this and making it about fifty times better than it was previously.  
  
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Diego Duenez clutched the compass tightly in his hand and gazed nervously around the deck of the 'Sea's Pride.' The crew was silent, staring over the side at the wrecked ships that lined the narrow passage. He didn't trust their silence - he could sense their fear of the island that lay before them.  
  
Quickly his eyes flickered back to the compass and immediately he barked an order to the helmsman. The ship ever so slightly eased to starboard. Duenez relaxed; they were almost there at long last.  
  
With another glance at the compass, he marveled once more at the good fortune that had enabled him to get his hands on this, the key to unlimited wealth and power. And that oaf, Stenson, had sold it to him! He had known since he was a small child, hearing stories at his grandfather's knee, that it would be his eventual fate to find the legendary treasure of Cortez and now, it was as surely in his grasp as this compass. Once he was immortal, his enemies would pay.  
  
A shout from the lookout broke his reverie. At last he had reached his destiny.  
  
"Lower the boats, we're all going ashore." It was safe enough to leave the ship abandoned; there were none now living who knew the location of the island. And he didn't dare tell any of his crew that they would not get to the treasure. That would be a quick way to provoke mutiny.  
  
"Aye sir." The shout resounded from all sides. He felt his lips curl into a smile.  
  
The journey to land was marked only by the whisperings of the crew, nervous and greedy in equal parts. They knew nothing of his fate, his destiny. He had told them only what they wanted to hear; that there was a treasure beyond price concealed on this rock and that all the stories of curses were false. That part was a lie of course, but he had been prepared to use whatever means necessary to get here. Beyond all doubt he knew that whatever magic the gold held was not a curse but rather a blessing. As an immortal he would be as one with the heathen gods. It was as inevitable as the tide itself.  
  
He stepped out of the boat. The rock was slippery under his feet and he struggled to maintain his balance. It was imperative that he did not fall; he needed to keep his dignity in front of this rabble. Silently they marched through the cave. The crew kept glancing nervously from side to side, jumping at every shadow. He kept his gaze fixed rigidly ahead of him. He was no child now, to be scared of the dark. There was absolutely no one here so there was nothing to be frightened of, nothing at all.  
  
They entered the cavern and for a moment it was as though they had been turned to stone. Then all hell broke lose. Duenez watched in sardonic amusement as his crew threw themselves mindlessly at the piles of treasure littering the cavern. The fools had no idea of the true prize. Trusting that they were all far too preoccupied to notice, he made his way towards the large stone chest that stood off to one side. He paused at the sight of a dead body lying beneath it, barely more than a skeleton remained. He frowned to himself; he knew that hat. Barbossa. So Sparrow really had killed him. Funny, he'd never have believed the pathetic buffoon capable of it. He had not, after all, had the wit or courage to take the opportunity the treasure's blessing offered. Still Sparrow himself had met his end now, thanks to the useful Stenson. And so the power of the gold would belong to him, Diego Duenez.  
  
Stooping slightly he noticed a glint of gold in the corpses hand. He hesitated for a moment but chose to leave it there. There was enough wealth to be had without robbing the dead.  
  
He stood in front of the stone chest. It was exactly as his grandfather had described it. Trembling ever so slightly he reached out and touched the stone. It was clammy and slightly warm in contrast to the cool air in the cave. He jerked his hand back and cursed his nerves. With a feeling of resolution he shoved the stone lid off the chest, revealing the gold below. Eyes wide he couldn't suppress a gasp at the sight. This was it. His destiny. The fabled treasure of Cortez.  
  
"What's tha' you've found, Capn'?" He glared round for the source of the interruption and recognised Barres, his quartermaster.  
  
"Nothin' ye need concern yerself o'er," he snapped.  
  
"Nothin'?" The rest of the crew began to take notice and slowly moved towards him and the chest. "We signed on for an equal share of everythin', remember?"  
  
"There's enough swag in 'ere for equal shares without this," Duenez protested but as he studied their faces he knew it would be to no avail.  
  
"Lets see what our Capn's found, shall we boys?" They rushed the chest and Duenez, badly outnumbered, had no way of stopping them. With a feeling of helplessness he watched as each man seized at least one piece for himself. Then, as quickly as it had started it was over. Satisfied with their take they wandered away to continue examining the rest of the hoarde.  
  
Duenez stared after them in disbelief. How had his plans gone so badly wrong? Only he was supposed to receive the power of the Aztec gold. Uncertain of what to do next, his eye fell on Barbossa's cold, dead corpse. It seemed as though the dead man was laughing at him. Shivering slightly he looked back to the chest. There were still a few pieces of gold in it. There were, after all, advantages to be had from controlling an immortal army.  
  
With a barely perceptible hesitation he reached in and took a coin. While the design on it was a little unnerving he continued his study of the gold, turning it over in his hand. To get a better look, he lifted it to the brighter light shining in from the top of the cavern. The markings were like none he'd ever seen and more detailed than what he'd heard. Such a small thing that promised so much power, like the compass.  
  
The compass?  
  
Thinking of it he quickly checked his pocket, pulling the instrument out to check that it was still there. It was, thank the gods. Ever since he'd got his hands on it the threat of losing it again had haunted both his restless dreams and waking thoughts. Staring at its face, he was a little surprised to note that the needle pointed dead ahead of him – at the chest. Lost in thought he didn't notice the tattered bundle of fur approach until it launched itself directly at his neck.  
  
Yelping in surprise and disgust he accidentally dropped the compass, which fell straight into the stone chest. Frantically his hands went to his throat and he wrestled desperately with the thing that clung to him. Sharp teeth dug into his throat and he could sense the things putrid breath on his skin. But he couldn't feel it. . Inwardly he almost smiled as realization broke through the fear. The power of the gold had already taken root in the tiny part of his mind and calm replaced his fear. No longer was he concerned with freeing himself. Still several of his crew ran up to help him and together they managed to pull the wretched thing away and send it flying across the cave. It was a monkey he noticed as it scuttled off to some dark corner. His nose wrinkled; he'd always despised monkeys.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw it - the blood red light. The chest was glowing with it. With a growing sense of dread he turned towards it and looked inside. The compass lay on top of the few remaining coins. They all appeared to be coated in blood. The light didn't appear to be coming from anywhere in particular, or perhaps it would be truer to say it was coming from everywhere. Unthinkingly he reached out his hand towards the compass. As soon as he touched it he felt a jolt; not painful exactly, but enough that he cried out and sprang back. The tips of his fingers now glowed red as though covered in unnatural blood. Terrified he watched with unguarded horror as it first covered his entire hand then began slithering up his arm. With a cold feeling deep in the pit of his stomach he realised that wherever it engulfed he couldn't feel as surely as if it no longer was part of him.  
  
Stumbling he backed away from the chest, hoping irrationally that the distance would help. Helplessly, desperately he turned to his crew but they just stood and stared at his struggles, apparently struck dumb. It was at his shoulder now, spreading up his neck and very rapidly down his torso. As he lost contact with the tip of his chin and his thighs at the same time, he couldn't help but scream – a scream that was very quickly cut off as the blood-stuff flowed over his mouth. It continued to reverberate around his head for some time though, as the nightmare slid up his face until it crawled over, and into, his eyes, obscuring his vision with unending redness. Then there was nothing.  
  
The first thing that Barbossa was aware of was the pain, a kind of dull ache present in every bone in his body as though he had been lying in the same position for too long. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be dead. He remembered the unexpected chill, the blood and a pair of expressionless dark eyes watching him. He had died. He became aware of something in his hand. Curiously he looked down – it was a piece of the Aztec gold. That possibly went someway towards explaining it then. Cautiously he stood up. He was in the cave, which was full of people he didn't recognize. They all appeared to be looking over his shoulder. Struggling to get his bearings, he turned around; a man stood there, a man that he vaguely remembered, Duenez or something. He hadn't been glowing red the last time Barbossa had seen him of course.  
  
"Barbossa. You have awakened the wrath of the Aztec gods for a second time." That wasn't Duenez's voice. That was the sort of voice that he had always believed did not really exist outside of childhood nightmares; a voice that seemed to come from the inside of his own skull. He could hear the agitated murmurings of the unknown pirates behind him He ignored them and stared directly at the blood-red figure.  
  
"Oh? And who might ye be?" he sneered.  
  
"We speak for them. We are the curse inflicted on you as punishment for your greed."  
  
The gold in his hand – he realized fully what that meant. "So I'll be breaking it again."  
  
Duenez or whatever he was now, grinned unpleasantly revealing teeth that were tipped with blood. "It is not that simple, pirate. You have died and yet you now live. It is not your blood that is needed to lift your curse."  
  
There was a pause; Barbossa rolled his eyes. "Whose is it then?" he demanded.  
  
The thing laughed. Barbossa pulled out his pistol and aimed it. "Tell me," he growled.  
  
The thing only laughed harder. "Shoot, if you will. I cannot be killed." The mocking words held the ring of truth. "I shall tell you what you wish to know. It remains to be seen whether you are capable of understanding it." It shifted slightly and somehow seemed far taller than it had before. "The life blood of the one who is innocent, returned to the chest, shall set you free."  
  
Barbossa frowned. "That's it?"  
  
It laughed again but ignored him. Its gaze swept over the rest of the quivering pirates. "You are all accursed," it announced. "You cannot die but nor are you alive. Suffer." It's gaze returned to Barbossa. "You have one month. If you fail you shall walk this earth as a living corpse for the rest of time."  
  
Then it grinned widely and thick black smoke began to pour from it. It was still grinning as it burnt away to nothing.  
  
Barbossa shook his head, trying to dismiss the smell of burning flesh and the appalling sizzling noise from his mind. He turned to the waiting pirates. They didn't look up to much; a couple of them were retching in the corner. All the same they were all he had. "Alright, ye dogs. Yer working for me now. Ye help me break m' curse and I'll tell you how to break your'n."  
  
There was an uncertain pause, then a chorus of "Aye Capn'," echoed around the caves.  
  
"Leave the gold and head fer the ship," he ordered. It was best to keep them moving, best not to let them start thinking about ways in which curses might be broken. As for himself, he didn't yet understand the curse's words but he knew one who might - the man who had first told him of the Aztec gold. The man who'd put a lead ball in his chest and left him to rot. His murderer.  
  
Jack Sparrow.  
  
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Please review. 


	2. Chapter 1

Thank you to all reviewers and a massive thanks to Jackfan2 for betaing  
  
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Blood Rising  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Will had missed Elizabeth over the last few weeks; organizing their wedding had taken up so much of her time that he had hardly ever seen her – and when he had she frequently was too distracted to really talk, stopping only to kiss him lightly and ask if he thought cream or lavender would be better. It was only very rarely that he was able to figure out precisely what was supposed to be either cream or lavender so he generally chose arbitrarily and hoped against hope that it was nothing he was supposed to wear.  
  
She was determined that their wedding should be perfect; he knew it would be, for the simple reason that he was marrying her. He, Will Turner was marrying Elizabeth Swan at long last. What, in this world or any other, could possibly spoil that?  
  
Now, on the night before the day he had persuaded her that, as everything she could possibly prepare had been done three times at the very least, she should take a quick stroll with him. The stroll had turned into a lengthy amble, hand in hand, which had turned into a few, last kisses before they were formally to become man and wife. In this calm moment before what was surely going to be a hectic day, they lay on the beach looking up at the stars in simple, contented silence.  
  
"We should head back," Will said at last, the reluctance in his voice evident even to him, "Your father will worry."   
  
"Mmm, we can wait a few more minutes," she replied drowsily. He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. She giggled, and made a markedly insincere attempt to push him off.   
  
"Think yer s'posed to leave that sort of thing till after the wedding." Started, they leapt to their feet and peered into the darkness, searching for the source of the interruption. Breathing a sigh of relief they spotted three very familiar figures walking up the beach towards them.  
  
"I mean, I'm all in favour, but tradition is most definitely against you." Will knew he had a stupid grin on his face as he listened to the ramblings of Jack Sparrow. Even from that distance, in the dark he could swear that he could see Anamaria rolling her eyes.  
  
Gibbs, on the other hand, apparently took it seriously. "Aye, tis bad luck."  
  
Jack looked round at him oddly. "In what way is it bad luck?"   
  
Trying hard not to laugh, but deciding that interrupting this conversation was probably a good move, Will said, "Aren't you going to actually say hello to us, Jack?"   
  
"Good..." there was a pause while he squinted up at the sky, "...evening to you Will Turner. Miss Swan, may I say that you look positively ravishable." The typical grin contrasted sharply with the oddly formal words.  
  
"It's good to see you Jack, you look a lot better than you did the last time we saw you" her voice was warm as was the Jack's answering smile. "Anamaria, Gibbs." She smiled at each of them and then looked back to Jack. "Where's the rest of your crew? And the Black Pearl?"  
  
"Safely hidden and in a tavern by now. Not necessarily in that order, mind. We thought we'd come ashore and see if we could surprise the pair o' you. Well, I thought that. Gibbs 'as a friend that he'd like to see as lives that way and Ana can't bear to be apart from me unspeakably charming self for more'n a few moments at a time."   
  
Once again, Will found it hard to keep his face straight as the female pirate rolled her eyes and hit her captain. As Jack rubbed his jaw lightly, she explained "I thought I should keep an eye on the fool. Don't yet know that that bloody Commodore will keep to his word."  
  
"He will." Will assured her. "As long as Jack doesn't do anything incredibly daft." All four of them looked at the pirate captain doubtfully.   
  
"Stop bloody talking about me like I'm not here! I'll be on me best behavior – wouldn't want to miss the party after all. We are still invited, right?"  
  
"All of you who wish to attend." Elizabeth said grandly; and then smiling, added, "That made the guest list rather interesting."  
  
"It'll probably just be the three of us." Anamaria said, "the others'll most likely want to keep out of sight. Marty and Cotton might stop by for the party."  
  
"'Specially for the free drinks, "Jack added.   
  
Will cleared his throat. He was a little nervous about asking this question. "I was wondering if you'd do me a favour, Jack?" he asked.   
  
"On the day before your weddin'? If it's within me power - and reasonable convenience - you shall have it."   
  
"I need a best man."  
  
"Often do at weddings as I understand it." There was a pause. Will waited for the other shoe to drop. "You mean me?" Disbelief coloured the startled question.   
  
"Who else?" It was Elizabeth who asked the question, amusement in her voice.  
  
"Almost anyone I would 'a thought," the pirate muttered. "I'd be honoured," he added as he apparently realised that some sort of answer was expected.   
  
"Are you sure that's wise?" Ana asked. "He'll get drunk and start tellin' everyone as'll listen embarrassing stories about you."  
  
"Are there any?" Elizabeth asked curiously.  
  
"I could make some up if it's necessary." Jack shrugged.  
  
"It won't be." Will said hastily. He turned to Elizabeth. "We'd best be heading back before your father sends out search parties again." They started walking back along the beach.   
  
"Again? I s'ppose that means you're not a eunuch." As Will tried hard to come up with a suitable retort he reflected that he'd missed Jack too.  
  
The weather was unusual the next day in that it was raining. Jack was secretly glad that Gibbs hadn't put in an appearance yet as he was almost sure that rain on wedding days came on the official list of things that were 'bad luck.' He paid no heed to the list, but such a pronouncement would probably have had a bad effect on the groom who already seemed to be in danger of wearing out the floor.   
  
"Have you still got the rings, Jack?" Will asked, whirling round to face him with a look of sheer terror on his face.  
  
"Course I still got them, whelp. Right 'ere, see?" Who would have thought that being a best man would involve so much effort? Jack had always previously assumed it simply involved leering at bridesmaids.  
  
"Calm yourself, Turner, everything's running smoothly." James Norrington was leaning against a wall, seemingly trying hard to hide the amused expression on his face. Jack was avoiding meeting his eyes on the basis that laughing at the groom was probably not one of his official duties.  
  
"Right, right." Will said distractedly before resuming his pacing.  
  
Jack tugged at his shirt; Will and Elizabeth had insisted that he wear new and formal clothes. "I feel ridiculous," he complained, not really expecting any sympathy.   
  
"Ye look ridiculous as well. Mind you, we're used to that." He turned round and glared at Ana. She glared back. That much was as normal.   
  
"Anamaria!" Will said. The sudden grin on his face was definitely unnerving. "You can see Elizabeth."  
  
"What?" she frowned. Jack decided to step in and translate.  
  
"He means that you can see her before the weddin' which he can't, bein' as how it's unlucky, and me and Norrington there can't go and see her as that would involve leaving him, which we're not supposed to do in case he runs away, or maybe it is that if we see her she might decide as 'ow she likes one of us better, which would likely be me as I'm the dashing one, but in any case he wants you to go check that she still wants to marry him, savvy?"  
  
Three faces were turned towards him, various degrees of confusion apparent in their eyes. He grinned and leaned back against the wall, satisfied his work was done for the moment.  
  
Will turned back to Anamaria. "Would you go to Elizabeth and ask her, uh, which side you're to be seated at and then come back and tell me how she seems? And give her my love," he added hastily.  
  
She smiled at him, a rather mocking smile admittedly, but left to do as he asked nonetheless.  
  
"Nervous, Will?" Norrington asked rhetorically.  
  
"A little," he replied with the air of one confessing a great secret. Norrington managed to turn his laughter into a coughing fit. Jack just sniggered.  
  
Will glared at him. "You know, Elizabeth asked me to make sure that you removed the kohl from your eyes and all the trinkets from your hair before the wedding."  
  
Jack stopped grinning. "You wouldn't."  
  
"Probably not, no," he admitted. A panicked expression crossed his face. "Are you sure you've got the rings?"  
  
"Ah, no, sorry mate. 'Fraid I swapped them for a bottle o' rum." It was cruel, but he just couldn't resist.   
  
"Jack!"  
  
That anguished yell echoed down the corridor of the governor's house. Anamaria, standing outside Elizabeth's room, rolled her eyes on hearing it. She wondered if there had ever been a case where the groom killed the best man before the ceremony.  
  
"Come in," Elizabeth's voice called. She opened the door. It appeared the bride was far less nervous than her intended husband; Elizabeth Swan was sitting on a chair while her maid adjusted her hair, perfectly composed, except she looked a little paler than normal. "Ana, I'm glad you're here. What do you think?" she indicated the dress.  
  
Ana eyed it dubiously. It was a pure white colour, long and flowing. She had never known much about fashion and the only thought that immediately came to her mind was that it would surely stain easily. That probably wasn't what was required here though. "It's beautiful," she said, finally. It was, truly - just not practical. "You look beautiful."  
  
"Good," relief was evident in her voice. She half twisted round to look at her maid. "Estrella, will you please stop fussing? It must be done by now."   
  
"Well, it's not, and that side will have to be done again now, miss. I told you not to move."  
  
"Estrella...."  
  
"We need you to look perfect." Ana smiled at the firm tone. Perhaps if Will had someone who was taking the wedding seriously he would be as calm as Elizabeth. Perhaps not though. Thinking of Will reminded her of the message.  
  
"Will wants to know where I should be seated."  
  
Elizabeth frowned. "Wherever you want, I imagine. He sent you down to ask that?"  
  
"Not really. Think he wanted to make sure you still wanted to marry him. He sends his love."  
  
That statement got a fond smile. "How is he?"  
  
"Jittery." Ana said, decidedly. "And that Norrington's of no use, and Jack's being...Jack, so I'm in no hurry to get back."  
  
"Men can't do weddings." Estrella announced with a mouth full of hairpins. Elizabeth and Ana smiled in agreement.  
  
There was a slight pause, then Ana asked curiously, "Are ye's going to live here after the wedding?" she jerked her head indicating the governor's manor.  
  
"No, there's a house waiting for us. All furnished and everything. It's a wedding present from my father, though I got choose the decorating. We'll be moving in there tonight." She added softly, eyes shining, "After we're married."  
  
It seemed as though the whole of the Caribbean turned out to the wedding. The engagement between the governor's daughter and a blacksmith had been the most gossiped-about occurrence for some time now, and everyone wanted to know if it was really going to happen and, given the young couple's history, if there were going to be pirates involved.  
  
In the event, the actual occurrence was probably a deep disappointment to everyone except those people most concerned, who could scarcely have been happier. About the only irregularity was that the best man appeared to have kohl on his eyes and beads in his hair. In fact, he bore a striking resemblance to a certain pirate known to have escaped a lawful hanging three times. But, since not only did Commodore Norrington not seem to notice, but in fact spent some time talking to the man, pointedly calling him Captain Smith several times, it was generally understood to be a case of mistaken identity.  
  
The ceremony was generally held to be very touching; the bride was determined, the groom was pale and the young couple said "I do" with an obvious depth of emotion. The party afterwards was a complete success; both conversation and drink flowed well. The evenings entertainment came in the form of dancing, allowing those who had drunk enough, and were so inclined, to make complete fools of them selves.  
  
Long before the festivities were ended the time came that the bride was led away by her maids of honour, and the groom and his men followed soon after.   
  
"I don't see why I'm not allowed to go with Elizabeth." Will complained to the three men walking, and in two cases staggering, beside him.  
  
"S' not traditional. 'Ave t' stick t' traditions. Jus' like the code. Ver' impor'nt." Gibbs slurred in explanation.  
  
"You'll be spending' the rest of your lives together. Take this walk to breathe the free air." Jack gestured dramatically around him.  
  
"She'll want to get ready for you." Norrington added. All three men looked at him and he reddened ever so slightly.  
  
It was perhaps fortunate for him that they reached the house at that point. Anamaria was standing outside, along with another couple of women who, upon seeing the men arrived, giggled and left. "She's inside," she told Will. "Don't hang about here too long."   
  
Will turned to the others, each of who evidently felt the need to give him some sort of advice or perhaps farewell. Gibbs shook his hand and muttered "Fine woman, right enough lad," and moved off beside Ana, gulping down some rum from his flask as he did so.  
  
Norrington, sober as ever said "I would tell you to treat her well, but I already know you will. My congratulations once again, Mr Turner." Then he smiled one of his rare smiles and joined the others.  
  
Jack looked him right in the eye and said seriously, "Have fun, and there's absolutely no need to be nervous. She loves you. You love her. That's truly all that matters. Remember that." Then, to their mutual surprise, he hugged Will quickly, before he too walked away. Will took a deep breath and turned to face the house – his house. In the background he could hear Jack embarking on a detailed explanation as to exactly why Anamaria should dance with him when they returned to the party. Ana's answer appeared to be based on her serious doubts that Jack was capable of dancing.  
  
Doing his best to ignore his friends, Will took a deep breath and prepared to walk through his front door, but he was stopped when a scream rang out. Elizabeth.  
  
He didn't hesitate, he ran straight into the house, his hands fumbling for a sword that wasn't there. The screaming was still going on, it was coming from upstairs. Taking the stairs two at a time, aware that the others were close on his heels he burst into the bedroom.  
  
Elizabeth was standing at the bed, clutching her hands to her mouth. She screamed, even as he reached her and pulled her into his chest. Then, with his arms around her she started sobbing instead. He looked over his shoulder, trying to see what had upset her.  
  
A voice behind him said softly "Jesus, Mary and Joseph." The sheets were caked in blood; dried rivers of it trailed down and crossed the floor. Estrella lay on the bed, lifeless eyes fixed on the ceiling, a gaping wound slashed across her throat.  
  
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Oh come on, you weren't seriously expecting the happy stuff to last, were you?  
  
Please review with y'know, opinions. 


	3. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story, and just because I feel like it, any other story too.  
  
Once again, thank you Julie for betaing.  
  
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Blood Rising  
  
Chapter 2  
  
James Norrington had always considered himself to be near unshockable but the sheer, needless, barbarity of the scene before him left him chilled to his very core. He couldn't think of anything to say, not to Elizabeth still sobbing hysterically, or to Will, holding her as though he were trying to protect her from the world. Bereft of thought for a moment, he watched Jack Sparrow walk past him and briefly examine the dead body – Estrella that was her name, he dimly remembered.  
  
"Been dead a few hours," the pirate announced, straightening up. "Them as did it will be long gone by now. Not much point you calling for yer marines." Belatedly he realised that he should have thought of summoning aid.  
  
"We have to do something," he answered, only aware after he had spoken that he was almost begging Jack to tell him what to do.  
  
Sparrow gave no answer, didn't even look at him. Norrington followed his gaze and realised he was looking directly at Will and Elizabeth, not that either of them was aware of the attention. Shaking his head slightly, although Norrington had no hint of exactly what thoughts were passing through the man's head, he looked back to the body on the bed.  
  
Undoubtedly if he hadn't grown to know Jack Sparrow fairly well in recent times he would have missed the slight start of surprise, almost immediately covered, and he certainly would have missed the ever-so-casual hand movement and the flash of paper disappearing up a sleeve.  
  
"What was that?" he demanded, the situation making his tone a little harsher than he had intended. It was plainly enough that Anamaria and Gibbs, hanging back in the doorway tensed slightly, as though preparing to come to their captain's aid if necessary.  
  
"What was what?" Will asked, looking up slightly, though not moving away from Elizabeth, who didn't react at all.  
  
"He," here he jerked his head towards Jack, still standing by the bed, "just picked up something. A note."  
  
"A note? We need to see it, Jack." The young man's voice was soft but surprisingly steady. "It must give some clue to who did this. She," he swallowed convulsively but continued, "she was in our bed, it was meant for us."  
  
There was absolutely no emotion on Jack's face. "No. It was meant to get my attention. Note's addressed to me." The tone was an odd mixture of weary compassion and sorrow. "Take 'Lizbeth home...back to her father's place. We'll talk later." For some reason it seemed strange to Norrington that the normal swagger was still in place as Sparrow made his way to the door. Just before he got there he turned back and looked directly at Will and Elizabeth. "I'm sorry." Then he brushed past Gibbs and Anamaria and was gone.  
  
The other two pirates exchanged a long look, then, without a word being spoken, seemed to reach an agreement; Gibbs took off after Jack, and Ana came fully into the room and took Elizabeth's arm. "Come on then, let's get you out of here." With Will holding tight to the other arm, they walked slowly out of the room. In the doorway, Ana looked back over her shoulder at Norrington. "You c'n look after the official stuff?"  
  
He nodded dumbly.  
  
~*~  
  
Gibbs stumbled out of the house and looked around. There was no immediate sign of Jack, but undeterred he headed down to the beach. He had known his captain far too long not to suspect that the younger man would head towards the sea.  
  
Walking in on a dead body tends to have a sobering effect on a man and he was certainly a lot steadier on his feet now than he had been half an hour ago. Nevertheless, he was definitely swaying as he wandered out from the cliff, peering in all directions. And, under the circumstances, it was perhaps understandable that he yelped in surprise when, not more than six feet behind him, a quiet voice said "'Ello, Josh."  
  
When he had regained his composure he turned round, deliberately avoiding mentioning the fact that it was bad luck to sneak up on people. He could just make out Jack standing against the dark cliff, his face hidden in the shadows.  
  
"What are ye doin', Jack?" he kept his voice level.  
  
"Thinkin'." That was said far too flat for Gibbs' liking. He didn't like it when Jack got into dark moods. It always seemed to herald trouble.  
  
"Ye do too much 'o that." he ventured, cautiously.  
  
"Someone 'as to."  
  
For a long moment there was silence, as Gibbs tried hard to think up some reply.  
  
"'e killed 'er." Jack said, suddenly.  
  
"Who did?"  
  
"Doesn' matter. Whoever it was, 'e killed 'er cause o' somethin' I did."  
  
"You can't blame yerself, cap'n."  
  
"Who else is there?" Gibbs almost let out another yelp when Jack snapped up straight and stepped away from the cliff, into the moonlight. "Get the crew back aboard an' tell them we'll be sailin' before dawn. Have them make 'er ready, then meet me up at the governor's mansion, savvy?"  
  
"They're goin' t' want t' know what we're goin' after." And so do I, he added silently.  
  
"I'll tell them when I know." Gibbs wasn't totally sure of that. He had told Will Turner once that Jack played things close to the vest, and some habits were clearly hard to break.  
  
"They won' mind goin' on your word, Jack, but if it comes to riskin' life or limb..."  
  
He was interrupted. "I won' risk me ship or me crew, be sure on that."  
  
"And yer self?" he asked quietly. He caught sight of a flash of gold in the moonlight as Jack grinned. Not exactly reassuring.  
  
"Do as I ask?" it was a question, not an order which made it a lot harder to even think of arguing.  
  
"Aye." he said finally. He turned to leave, hesitated and looked back round. "Your not thinkin' of doin' anything...stupid, are you Jack?"  
  
Once again he was answered with a grin. "Would I?"  
  
Not reassuring at all.  
  
~*~  
  
A few hours later Will crept out of Elizabeth's room. She had cried for a long time; alternately clinging to him and pushing him away with incoherent words of anger, seemingly not directed at him. As he tried to comfort her he wished that there was something he could do; he hated feeling helpless especially when it came to the woman he loved being in pain. But Elizabeth had known Estrella for longer even than she had known him. They had always seemed more like friends than like lady and maid and he didn't think that there was anything he could do to ease her grief.  
  
Still lost in thought, he didn't notice until it was to late and he bumped into Norrington on the landing; the Commodore having just stepped out of the Governor's office.  
  
"How is she?" Norrington asked in a low voice, then added hastily "If you don't mind my asking."  
  
Will shook his head dully, "I don't know."  
  
"She's strong Will. She'll be alright"  
  
He nodded, never doubting it. Elizabeth would be fine, eventually. She was strong, as Norrington had said, the strongest person he had ever known. But would they be all right?  
  
A footman glided up to them. The man looked as if he was trying to hide the fact that he was upset behind an act of stuffiness. On the other hand, that was how the Governor's servants always acted around Will.  
  
"Two...gentlemen have joined the lady whom you arrived with. One of them said that you would wish to speak to them."  
  
Will felt a spark of excitement; Jack would know what was going on. They would be able to do something; maybe if he sought revenge he would stop feeling so useless.  
  
Norrington moved first and Will followed him closely down the stairs. With a start of surprise he drew to a quick halt Just outside the door to the study, as the military man gestured him to do so. Will noted that there were marines stationed in the hallway. Apparently, in view of the recent events, protecting the governor and his family had become a military issue. The study door was slightly ajar and he heard voices coming from it.  
  
"...jus' meant to get Will and Elizabeth to go and find me. Didn' even care 'bout the girl, or about them, jus' wanted to pass a message along."  
  
"But who was it, Jack?"  
  
"I think we'd all like to know the answer to that, Sparrow." Norrington said, sweeping into the room, Will trailing behind.  
  
The three had been huddled together, apparently looking at the note. As they were interrupted they sprang apart, hands moving to swords. Predictably, Jack was the first to recover.  
  
"Di'n't anyone ever tell you as how it's not nice t' eavesdrop?"  
  
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's polite to answer the question?" Norrington responded coolly. "Let me see the note."  
  
Will looked from Jack to Norrington; the tension between the two worried him. He watched for a long moment, as they seemed to engage in some sort of staring contest, then Jack shrugged and passed the piece of paper over. The Commodore looked at the markings on the outside and and breathed in sharply. Will moved to his elbow and peered over. He too, couldn't suppress a gasp.  
  
On the outside of the paper was a very familiar drawing. A sparrow was flying over the sea, just like on Jack's tattoo. Except that this sparrow had a sword piercing its chest.  
  
Looking up at the pirate, Will noticed the lack of emotion on the pirate's face. However, Ana and Gibbs had both seemed extremely agitated and tense from the moment they had walked in. Jack turned to them and, after a brief, hushed conversation; they left quietly, glancing backwards with worried expressions.  
  
Will watched as Norrington unfolded the letter. The message was direct.  
  
"Tell Sparrow to go to the isle of coconuts if you want to avoid the rest of your town meeting the same end as this wench."  
  
"The isle of coconuts?" Will questioned, that seemed a ridiculous name for any island, let alone one that was filled with such significance.  
  
"Small place. Uninhabited. Six days north of Port Royal."  
  
"I've never heard of it." Norrington frowned.  
  
"No, well, there were only four that ever called it that. And three of 'em are dead."  
  
"Then it must be the other one." Will said excitedly.  
  
"Yes, but I di'n't do it." The smile that accompanied that statement was only a fraction of his usual grin.  
  
"So what does that mean?"  
  
"Means that some things that are supposed t' be impossible might jus' be improbable." Jack seemed distracted; it was obvious that what he was saying was more for his own benefit than anything else.  
  
There was a long pause before Will thought to ask "What do we do now?"  
  
"We don' do anything. You and 'Lizbeth lie low and keep out of trouble, I go and find out who it is that wants t' talk with me."  
  
"I'm afraid I can't allow that." Norrington's words rang around the room.  
  
"Allow?" Jack spoke softly. Will had never heard him sound so dangerous.  
  
"The girl was under the protection of the crown. This letter contains a threat to Port Royal. This means that this is a matter for the Royal Navy."  
  
"Come along if you like, but me and the Pearl are going tonight. Ana and Josh 'ave gone t' make sure she's ready."  
  
"Don't be stupid, Sparrow. You'd be sailing into what is plainly a trap. This is not a matter for civilians." Will was fairly certain that Norrington didn't mean to sound so superior.  
  
"I'm not a civilian; I'm a pirate, savvy? And I'd like to know how it is that you're plannin' on stopping me."  
  
"Yes, you are a pirate, therefore, need I remind you that pirates aren't supposed to feel responsible for the uncontrollable deaths of others? Estrella's death, however regrettable, was not your fault. As to stopping you, that is simple. I could have you arrested." Will looked between the two men and tried desperately to think of some way to diffuse the situation; but there wasn't a single thing he could think of to say.  
  
"Could you now?" Jack's hand was hovering above his sword. This wasn't good. "And 'ow much good do you reckon that that would do? You 'aven't had much luck keeping me arrested after all."  
  
"Jack." Will said warningly, but it was Norrington who drew his sword first.  
  
"Come on then, mate," Jack said mockingly. He moved round as though trying to get more room for the fight but instead ended up at the door with a wide grin. "Be seeing you."  
  
Not taking his eyes off Norrington, Jack pulled the door open. A startled yelp accompanied the gesture and all eyes turned in time to see Elizabeth stagger and stumble into the room. Being the closest, the pirate reared back slightly in stunned surprise. Struggling to regain her composure, she kept the other side of the door handle in one hand and a candlestick raised high in the other.  
  
"Elizabeth! I thought you were asleep." Will cursed himself for saying something so obvious.  
  
She ignored him, addressing Jack instead. "It's you," her eyes narrowed maliciously, "It's all your fault she's dead. I hate you." Will had never heard her sound so venomous. While unable to see Jack's reaction, the effect of her angry words were clear in the sudden slump of his shoulders and the downward tilt of his head.  
  
"Elizabeth..." he began. She swung the candlestick. Jack went down instantly.  
  
"Elizabeth!" Will said, horror-stricken.  
  
She stood looking down at the crumpled form of their friend. For once, he couldn't read her expression. Uncertain as to what to do next, he remained frozen in place, not sure whether he should be checking on his friend or looking after Elizabeth.  
  
Norrington pushed past him and knelt down beside Jack. After a second he breathed a sigh of relief. "He's still breathing. I think he'll be alright." He put his head out of the door and signalled the marines. "He's also under arrest." Before the guards came in, he checked carefully to make sure that the brand and the tattoo were well covered.  
  
"James," Will said, completely stunned.  
  
"It's for his own protection. And it's just for the time being, until the situation has been settled." The soldiers came in, and without a word, lifted Jack and dragged him out, closely followed by the Commodore.  
  
Will was left facing Elizabeth, trying to think of something, anything to say.  
  
***************************************************************  
  
Ah well, there we go. Please review since you've reached the bottom anyway. 


	4. Chapter 3

Here we have another chapter and I apologise for the delay, been kind of busy lately.  
  
As ever, infinite thanks to all you lovely people who took the time to review and an even greater, and therefore mathematically impossible number of thanks to Julie for reviewing.  
  
Blood Rising  
  
Chapter Three  
  
The candlestick dropped from her suddenly nerveless fingers. More than anything she wanted to run, to go somewhere where she wouldn't have to see the look in Will's eyes, that look of shock and helplessness. She wanted to say something, to apologise although whether to Will or Estrella she wasn't certain. But the words wouldn't come and she just stood there and watched him watching her.  
  
After a while - a moment, a year - he walked over and took her by the arm. In what she assumed was an attempt to calm her, he spoke reassuring words murmured close to her ear. The words were nearly unintelligible and she doubted that even he knew what he was saying. It didn't matter as she walked stiffly by his side, seemingly incapable of listening.  
  
Arm in arm, but perhaps further apart than they had ever been, they stumbled up the stairs and into her room. As he led her to the bed, she glanced at his face, desperate for some hint of understanding, some sincere promise that everything really would be all right. Instead, his eyes were downcast, unable or unwilling to meet her gaze. Tenderly he drew back the coversand she curled up on the bed and shut her eyes tightly. Gentle hands coved her with a blanket and the soft lips that kissed her on the forehead, but she ignored them.  
  
Estrella was dead. Nothing could change that, but she still needed someone to pay. There was a yawning, bitter emptiness inside her, and something else. The grief she knew should be there was absent. No more tears remained. Instead, there was only the anger and hatred that screamed out against the one who had stolen her childhood friend.  
  
The young maid hadbecome a fast friend over the years. The advent of her servitude to the Swann family had begun when Elizabeth's mother had died.. Estrella, six years her senior, had always been there with a soft word and a comforting hug. Especially when she'd been woken by all-too-frequent nightmares.  
  
Then the crossing from England with her father. Estrella had soothed her when she'd been plagued by seasickness in the first week. Closer than a sister, she had looked after her and now, because of their friendship, she was dead. Or, more truly, she was dead because Elizabeth and Will were friends with a pirate who didn't trust them enough to tell them what was going on.  
  
It was Jack's fault. Somewhere in his murky past he had done something terrible enough that someone was prepared to kill over it. He had stood there and taken responsibility and then he had swaggered out like it didn't matter. What was one more death to a pirate after all? Deep down, she knew what she felt was unreasonable and unfair. In her heart, she knew that when she wasn't so angry she would insist that Jack was a good man and defend him against anyone. But right now, she hated him and everything he stood for. It was Jack's fault. It had to be, or there would be no one for her to focus her hatred on.  
  
There had to be something she could do. Staying at home and waiting for others to act had never been her style. Breathing deeply, she tried to think of how she could find Estrella's murderer when she had no clue as to who it was. She had no clue. Perhaps someone else might, in particular perhaps Jack knew something.  
  
Lifting her head, she turned slightly. As she had more than half expected, Will was sitting on the chair opposite her bed, staring into space. Wearily, he rubbed at his eyes and she realized for the first time how exhausted he looked. A momentary wave of sympathy came over her but she quickly repressed it. There was no time; she needed to get things done.  
  
"Will," she said softly. He looked up sharply.  
  
"Elizabeth?" There was a peculiar hesitation in his voice.  
  
"Who killed her?"  
  
"Shush, it's not the time to be thinking of that...."  
  
"I need to. I need to know." Almost, she despised the sharp tone of her voice and the way it made him flinch. Almost.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"So I can kill them." The answer surprised her as much as it did him. It made sense though. The murderer deserved to die, and she needed revenge. Why should she be denied it because she was a woman?  
  
"Elizabeth...."  
  
"Who was it, Will?" she cut him off.  
  
"I don't know." She knew he was telling the truth. She could always tell when he was lying.  
  
"Does he know?" There was no need to specify who he was; she was unable to disguise the disgust in her voice.  
  
"No." He answered a little too quickly for her liking. She stared at him for a long moment and he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "Jack doesn't know who murdered Estrella." he insisted.  
  
"He knows where to find them though, doesn't he?" she pressed.  
  
He sighed, and with obvious reluctance admitted, "Yes, he does."  
  
She sat up then and began to pull on a pair of shoes, a feeling of determination almost overwhelming her.  
  
"What are you doing?" Will asked, a note of alarm dominating his voice.  
  
"We need to get Jack out of prison so he can lead us to Estrella's murderer." She said, astonished that her plan wasn't obvious to him.  
  
"Love, I hate to say it but maybe Norrington's right. Maybe prison is the best place for Jack at the moment. The island in the note...it's almost certainly a trap and he – we- would be walking right into it."  
  
She bit back the answer that came immediately to her lips; that she didn't care; and instead looked at him sincerely. "I need to do this Will. Are you going to help me?"  
  
There was a look of miserable resignation on his face as he replied. "Yes, of course I will, Elizabeth." She had, after all given him no choice.  
  
***  
  
There were nicer ways to wake up, he thought as he cautiously opened one eye and discovered that a group of men with hammers had taken up residence in his skull. Opening the eye didn't seem to actually make the pain worse, so in the spirit of enquiry he opened the other one and looked round. This room was terribly familiar and equally terribly unwelcome. The jail cell at Port Royal. Bloody hell.  
  
One ringed hand brushed up to the side of his head and the source of the pain. Feeling dampness, he almost panicked before he realised it wasn't blood but water. Now, how had he gotten wet? Turning his head, he saw a damp cloth that had obviously been lying on top of his injury. That was certainly thoughtful of someone. Claiming the wet, folded material, he pressed it back against his aching skull and closed his eyes.  
  
Unbidden, the memory of the Elizabeth's face and that expression just before she swung the candlestick, flashed before his mind's eye. That look, more than any physical pain, would stay with him the rest of his days. Groaning he pushed the thoughts aside. Time to focus.  
  
How was he going to get out of here? No-one knew where he was, well except the rotten, treacherous Commodore that had locked him up after promising not to. And Will and Elizabeth of course, but he doubted that he could rely on their help this time. Well, the lad might be willing but he surely wouldn't leave her alone. No, he was on his own. Nothing to save him but his legendary wits and cunning.  
  
He was in trouble.  
  
No point in dwelling on it though. He got to his feet and was pleasantly surprised to notice that the headache seemed to have diminished a little, and the world only span very slightly. That bloody dog was watching him, keys hanging out of its mouth as ever. There was something disturbing in its calm contemplation. Perhaps it knew something he didn't. Right now that didn't seem unlikely.  
  
"Here doggy," he muttered optimistically. It ignored him. He felt ridiculous.  
  
Time for another plan then. The only problem was, he couldn't think of anything. He hadn't been able to break out of this cell on his own the last three times he'd been here; it seemed unlikely he was going to do it now. On the other hand, he was still alive and as close to uninjured as made no odds – he would get out of here somehow.  
  
The door creaked open and he immediately lay down. Perhaps the old pretending-to-be-dying ploy worked if they knew you had a head injury? If he just lay and feigned unconsciousness Norrington at least would be concerned and might risk coming into the cell. Then – he could improvise. Suddenly and violently if necessary.  
  
The footsteps came down the stairs. More than one person by the sounds of it. He hoped that he was lying in the same position as when they'd put him here; if he was seen to have moved too much it would be obvious he wasn't that near death.  
  
"Jack?" Now that was a voice he hadn't been expecting to hear.  
  
"'Ello whelp. Fancy meetin' you here." He kept his voice as light and flippant as possible. Sitting up he saw both Will and Elizabeth regarding him. The lad looked terrible; concern and misery were written all over his face. It was the look in her eyes that really worried him though. He recognised the light of obsession, had seen it in his own reflection frequently enough in the long years he'd been without his Pearl.  
  
"We've come to get you out of here." Will began.  
  
"No." Elizabeth spoke sharply. From the look on his face, the interruption had surprised Will at least as much as it had Jack.  
  
"Elizabeth..." he protested, but she carried on speaking, not listening to him.  
  
"Fair is fair, Captain Sparrow. If we get you out of here I expect you to swear to help me get revenge against whoever murdered Estrella."  
  
So that was it. He looked at her for a long moment, wishing that Will would speak up, would say something to her, but the younger man was staring at his boots as though they were the most amazing thing in the world. This probably wasn't the time to be telling her of the misery that revenge could bring; he very much doubted that she would listen. Better to go along with her and wait for his moment.  
  
"You can 'ave my help for the askin', Elizabeth. There was no need t' ransom me freedom for it." he told her quietly.  
  
For a moment she looked almost ashamed, then the same look of determination came back. "But you promise?" she said, half asking, half stating.  
  
He thrust a hand through the bars. Uncertainly she took it. "We 'ave an accord, lass."  
  
Will had already taken the keys from the dog and now unlocked the cell door. He flashed Jack a look that fell somewhere between gratitude and remonstrance. Evidently he wasn't too sure of what was going on or what he should be doing about it. Familiar feeling to him, no doubt.  
  
"We'll need to move quickly." Elizabeth stated. "That guard will be waking up soon."  
  
"You hit a soldier?" Somehow that seemed the most unlikely fact of all to Jack. He didn't argue anymore though, simply followed them out of the fort. Then it was his turn to lead them out of the town and along the coastline to where the Pearl lay hidden. It was, perhaps an hour-long walk normally, but it was still a while before dawn and scrambling along in the darkness took more time than he liked.  
  
The sky was just beginning to lighten as they came to the Black Pearl. As soon as his feet touched the deck he gave the order to cast off; he had no desire to linger in Port Royal any longer. The crew seemed startled, but ran to obey his shouted orders with a speed that almost alarmed him.  
  
When the ship got underway Gibbs and Ana came running up to him.  
  
"Jack! We heard you'd been caught." Ana exclaimed.  
  
"I was, now I'm not." he answered, trusting that that would be clear enough. A thought struck him. "'Ow did you hear that I'd been caught?"  
  
Gibbs and Ana looked at each other in a way that made his heart sink.  
  
"We surprised a group of soldiers, sneakin' around the coast." Gibbs supplied. "Left most of 'em tied up on the beach, but their leader said 'e 'ad word o' you so we took him on board."  
  
"It was that Commodore." Ana added. "He's still below now."  
  
Now there was a change in fortunes that would take a bit of coming to terms with. Two hours ago he'd been Norrington's prisoner; now Norrington was his, and all at a time when they'd both seemed to be coming to some unstated agreement.  
  
Standing at the helm, he thought this over. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but then he'd never been the sort to do either. Instead he smirked slightly "Funny ol' world, innit?"  
  
The looks of incomprehension and disgust that came his way made him wince inwardly. His grin widened.  
  
*********************************************************************  
  
Feedback is welcomed. What, do you want to see me grovel? 


	5. Chapter 4

_I deeply apologise for the long delay in this chapter. I must admit, two years is something of a record, even for me._

_I understand that some people may well be unwilling to read back over the past few chapters to remember this story so, in brief; having bought the compass from the man who stole it from Jack, a pirate by the name of Diego Duenez attempts to become immortal using the cursed gold. Unfortunately, he gets possessed by the curse and reanimates Barbossa who finds himself under a slightly different curse than before – he must restore the 'blood of the innocent' to the chest. Barbossa has no idea what that means, but believes that Jack may know. Will and Elizabeth get married – which is nice – and find the body of Elizabeth's maid Estrella in their bed – which isn't. Jack discovers a note on the body, telling Will and Elizabeth to send Jack to the Isle of Coconuts if they want to prevent everyone in Port Royal from dying. Jack expresses his intention of going – everyone else thinks it's a stupid plan. In a state of shock, Elizabeth holds Jack responsible for Estrella's murder, and hits him with a candlestick, rendering him unconscious. Norrington then arrests him, in a kind of 'protective custody' deal. Will and Elizabeth free Jack on the agreement that he help Elizabeth get revenge. They escape to the Black Pearl where it turns out that Gibbs and Ana have taken Norrington prisoner._

_This story was, of course, rendered AU as of Dead Man's Chest and shall remain so._

_This chapter was beta read by the ever wonderful Jackfan2. Thank you again._

  


"You do realize, Sparrow, that you are now responsible for kidnapping an officer of the Royal Navy?"

"Can't get anythin' past you, can I?" Jack asked absently. The sight of Commodore Norrington imprisoned in the Pearl's brig might have been amusing in other circumstances. As matters currently lay though, it was probably just another sign that everything was going to hell.

Norrington was glaring at him again. "Kidnapping is a crime punishable by death."

Jack shrugged. "A man can only be hanged so many times," he pointed out. Wasn't as if kidnapping Norrington had been high up on his list of good plans. But having the man on board meant it was unlikely that anyone else would know their heading. Of course, that meant that no-one would be able to come to their rescue. He sighed, wearily, his mind awash with possible futures, and grim forebodings.

"Jack…" God help him; if Norrington was using his given name, things were even worse than he'd thought. "Jack, I know that this wasn't your idea. Turn the ship around, we'll go back to Port Royal and I promise you that the entire power of the Navy will be brought to bear…."

"'Ave you considered that maybe that's what 'e wants?" Jack interrupted. "Maybe 'e wants all your forces out of Port Royal so as to attack." In truth, he didn't think it was likely that the mysterious 'he' wanted anything of the sort, however, he was willing to raise any point that had a possibility of distracting Norrington out of the attempt to talk him out of going to the isle of coconuts. He couldn't be entirely sure that such an attempt wouldn't be successful.

Norrington shook his head. "If you thought that, then you would most certainly have arranged for me to be returned to Port Royal. Jack.." the commodore was starting to sound a little desperate. "we – you – are sailing straight into a trap. I am aware that, for some twisted reason, you feel guilty about the girl's death, but no matter what Elizabeth might say -whatever you might think - this situation is not of your making. I am certain you have no wish to endanger any other lives. Let us return to Port Royal and discuss matters with Mr. Turner and Miss…and Mrs. Turner."

"They're onboard." Jack remarked, deliberately not looking at Norrington. Might as well lay bare everything he was guilty of. Well, everything relevant, that couldn't be otherwise concealed, at any rate.

"They're on …. What?!" Jack did his best not to flinch at the anger and disbelief in Norrington's voice. Not that he hadn't expected it. Not that he didn't know he deserved it. Nothing but bad choices to be made. "What were you thinking? Leaving aside, for the moment, your own risk, how can you justify leading a pair of civilians into such danger?" As if he didn't already know that anything that happened to his friends would be his fault.

"They asked." Jack said simply.

"Be that as it may, you had no business permitting it. Even if you were intent on this foolish venture, you should have sent them home."

"They asked." Jack repeated. He could have tried to explain about the bitter need for revenge he had seen in Elizabeth's eyes, about the deal that they'd struck in the name of friendship, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to it. It would have involved revealing too much. Instead he changed the subject. "I came down to ask if you would be willin' to give me your word that you won't interfere with my ship or me crew, if I let you out of here. We're half a day out of Port Royal, so I know you won't be swimming back."

"What will happen if I refuse?"

Jack grinned. "We've got a week till we reach the island. It's a long time to be locked up, mate. Trust me on that. And when we get there, well, we might need every hand we can get. I hadn't honestly considered that you would say no." There was nothing like the feeling of holding all five aces to cheer a man up.

Norrington sighed. "Very well. You have my word." Jack unlocked the cell door and headed to the stairs, but Norrington paused before following. "Miss Swan…I mean Mrs. Turner…Elizabeth. How is she?"

Jack hesitated, unsure for once of what to say. "She'll be fine," he finally settled on. It was probably true. Maybe. "I've given 'er and the whelp my cabin for the journey." No doubt that they needed their privacy, though not for the reason that should be, on the day after their wedding. He wondered how Elizabeth _was_ doing. It seemed that he should be giving her a wide berth – not only had he no wish to be hit over the head again, it also seemed as though his presence was liable to cause her distress. So he should avoid her – and Will – until he'd cleared this whole mess up. That was the right thing to do. It was.

"I see." Norrington sounded about as convinced of Elizabeth's wellbeing as Jack himself was.

Jack turned away from Norrington again, and walked towards the staircase that would lead them back on to the deck. "Everything is going to hell," he said aloud.

Norrington didn't reply, but Jack knew the other man had heard. Had heard him not ask for help, as he'd never not asked for help before. He could only hope that the help he hadn't asked for would be given when he needed it.

Up on deck, Ana was at the helm, while Gibbs stood beside her, fretting.

"I'm tellin' you, lass, we're sailin' straight fer trouble."

"Jack normally knows what he's doing," she answered, seemingly calm.

Aye, that was true enough. Well, Jack usually, eventually knew what he was doing, in any case. And maybe he was worrying for nothing. On the other hand… "You saw the picture on that note, same as I did. We should be sailin' the other way as fast as possible."

She didn't immediately answer him. Perhaps she secretly agreed. "We need to see what's what. We can't be running for the rest of time."

"And having that Norrington on board. You can't tell me _that_ doesn't worry you. Not to mention young Mrs. Turner. It's…."

"Joshamee Gibbs," Anamaria interrupted, furious. "If you say that it's bad luck to have a woman on board then, so help me, I'll throw you overboard myself."

"I wasn't going to say that," he protested. "Though it's bad luck to have anyone on board as looks that…" he couldn't think quite how to phrase it. That angry? That upset? That ready-to-kill, and to-hell-with-anyone-in-her-path? He had known the girl a long time, but all he hoped was that when she did whatever she was going to do, she didn't take him and his friends down with her.

"That what, Mr Gibbs?" a familiar voice slurred

Gibbs jumped. Oh hell. Turning to face Sparrow, he replied, "Nothin' important, Cap'n," He wondered if Jack would notice if one of those trinkets in his hair was replaced with a bell.

Jack nodded and swaggered up to the helm, which Anamaria relinquished with scarcely a murmur. "What's the plan, Captain?" she asked as she moved aside.

"Get to the island, see who's there, do some reconnoiterin', an' do what needs t' be done."

Well, that was vaguer than usual. Gibbs had no particular wish to argue at the moment though – they still had a long voyage ahead, and Jack was looking tired, and in no mood for discussion.

"That's it?" Anamaria apparently didn't feel the same reluctance. Not that he was surprised; she was always more ready than he to press the point.

"Not much use in coming up with anythin' more specific until we know what it is we're up against." Jack was staring out to sea, rubbing at his head, as if it pained him. Gibbs wondered if he should say something.

Before he could, Ana put her hand on Jack's sleeve. "You alright, Jack?" she asked softly. Gibbs wondered, for a brief moment, if he should leave, but when Jack simply turned his head and flashed a reassuring grin – at both of them – he decided not to. Yet.

"Jus' a bit o' a headache. S'not too bad anymore." Not too bad anymore? Meaning, that at some point it had been. Gibbs opened his mouth to say something, but Jack had already turned away again, and he knew, by the set of his Captain's shoulders, that any further enquiry would be given short shrift.

After a moment Jack addressed them again. "I need the pair o' you to help me make absolutely sure that the Pearl is as prepared for trouble as she's ever been. I want every gun checked, every powder barrel accounted for, long before we reach the island. It's my hope that you an' the Pearl will be well out of any trouble, but I…."

Ana didn't let him finish. Gibbs didn't think that she would ever let him finish a sentence like that. "You're not going to handle this on your own, do you hear me you daft fool?"

Gibbs nodded his agreement adding, "We're not jus' going to stand by and watch you risk yoursel' Cap'n." Not again. After over two months being held prisoner by a sadist, unsure of whether his friend was alive or dead, Gibbs would be damned if he'd let Jack do anything that stupid.

"Yes you are." That voice – serious, matter-of-fact – it made his blood chill. The fact that Jack still wasn't looking at them didn't help. "This time, you'll follow my orders, and follow the code. Please."

Gibbs opened his mouth, then closed it again. This wasn't the time to be arguing. There was plenty of time to talk sense into Jack – and time enough to out and out defy him, if it should come to it. It was almost funny. The only way he'd consider mutiny against Jack Sparrow was to save the man's life. He caught Ana's eye, and she gave him a brief nod. They'd talk later and figure out the best course of action. Neither of them was about to let this happen. He cleared his throat. "What do you think we're up against, Jack?" he ventured.

Jack turned, and grinned humorlessly at him. "A dead man, that 'as good cause to want my death."

Not good at all.

The moon that was rising was almost full. Norrington watched it, feeling oddly out of place on a ship that he had no command over. Sparrow's ship. What was he going to do, when he returned to Port Royal?

The addition of a kidnapping charge to the list of crimes, for which Sparrow was wanted, meant that the unofficial state of truce that currently existed between them would be near impossible to maintain. Either he would be expected to want revenge for the kidnapping, or it would be suspected that he had gone of his own free will – which would spell the end of his career. More than that, it was untrue; he truly had been kidnapped.

The fact that he was not wholly averse to his present circumstances was neither here nor there. While he would prefer to be in command of the situation, and to be backed up by a strong naval presence, the fact is, he would rather find himself on Sparrow's cursed ship, with only pirates for company, worrying about Elizabeth and Mr. Turner, heading for a mysterious and presumably dangerous rendezvous, than to know that all of that was going on without his presence. Sparrow was right; they were going to need all the help they could get. If only he could have persuaded the man to turn back.

Suddenly, he became aware that he was being watched. Turning, he saw the female pirate – Anamaria - standing behind him.

"Just wanted to let you know. There will always be someone watching you, for as long as you're on board."

Not really expecting anything less, he simply nodded.

She snorted, contemptuously. "Treacherous bastard," she muttered.

"What?" he asked, uncertain for a moment what she was referring to.

"You! _You_ promised you wouldn't arrest him. _You_ gave your word."

Almost, he was tempted to question what a promise was worth to a pirate. But he wasn't quite that foolhardy. "That was for his own protection. My plan was to arrest him for disorderly conduct – hardly a stretch – and release him when the danger had passed. Besides, after Miss Swan knocked him out, it seemed the best option."

"After _what_?" Anamaria asked very softly. Norrington suddenly had the feeling that he was skirting a massive precipice.

Unaccountably nervous, he stammered out "It was….that is, she wasn't altogether in her right mind. She'd sustained a massive shock and had some idea that Jack was responsible. I'm sure she's thought better of it by now."

"What exactly happened?" She continued to speak in that soft, menacing tone.

Unable to look at her, and equally unable to avoid telling her the truth, he answered, "She hit him with a candlestick. He wasn't expecting it, I think. I treated the wound myself. It wasn't as serious as it might have been. It wasn't her fault; she was distraught," he emphasized. The last thing he wanted was to cause more trouble for Elizabeth.

"Hmmm." She glared at him, seeming to lose herself in thought. "Daft fool." she muttered, after a while. Norrington couldn't help but think that he'd probably made life more difficult for Sparrow, as well. That almost cheered him up a little.

Silence fell between them and Norrington found himself wondering if he could enlist the woman as an ally, to make Sparrow see sense. It was evident that she was fond of her Captain after all. He could use that. "You must know that you're sailing into a trap. If you have any influence over Sparrow, you would do well to use it."

She looked at him sharply, almost as if she had forgotten he was there. He was disappointed to see her shake her head. "No-one has that sort of influence on Jack Sparrow."

"Then we'll continue sailing into a trap," he stated.

"And we'll win." There was a peculiar emphasis on 'we'. He had the feeling that she was drawing lines in the sand, and leaving him on the other side. "Now, if you'll excuse me." She walked away, without waiting for an answer. He watched her leave, and saw her nod to the old man with the parrot, who immediately turned to watch him. It seemed the Pearl crew felt no particular need to be subtle in their surveillance.

Feeling more hopeless with every moment that passed, he turned back to look out at the moon. Everything was going to hell, indeed.

It was supposed to be the happiest time of his life, and here he was, watching his love – his wife – cry disconsolately in another man's bed.

It had been over two hours since Elizabeth had stopped talking to him and Will had never felt so alone in his life. Sitting on the bed, she faced away from him but he knew that she was crying again by the soft sniffling sounds she emitted. Try as he might to console her, every time he tried to get near, she tensed up, swore at him and struck out. Perhaps he would be happier if he could only convince himself that it wasn't him she was seeing. Perhaps he would be happier if he could truly convince himself that she wasn't in her right mind.

Truthfully, he could understand Elizabeth's need for revenge. He could even sympathize with her desperate need to be doing something – to be doing _anything_ - in order to stop feeling so helpless.

Of course he understood, after all, no so very long ago, he had experienced all those feelings himself. However, he had seen her expression when she hit Jack with that candlestick, and, may God forgive him for thinking it, but he wasn't entirely sure that she hadn't meant to kill their friend.

Things had spiraled dangerously out of control, long past the point when Will had any idea what he should do. All he knew was that he would stand by Elizabeth no matter what. Even if it meant going against whatever plan Jack – and Norrington - came up with. Even if it meant…he swallowed, nervously. He had vowed for better or for worse, after all. And more than that – he loved her. That was it; he had made his choice.

"Elizabeth?" he said softly.

A faint sniff was the only response. It was enough. He knew she was hearing him.

"Elizabeth…I can't pretend to know what you're feeling. I wish there was someway that I could make it all better, but there isn't. But I can promise to help you get revenge if that's what you want. No matter what." He swallowed again, before continuing determinedly. "No matter who stands in our way."

She turned to look at him then, and just for a moment, he imagined he saw an expression of horror and regret on her face, but if it had been, it was gone in an instant. "Do you really mean that, Will?"

"No matter what." he vowed with a stiff nod.

"Thank you," she whispered and closed her eyes. With that, it seemed she was finally drifting off to sleep.

There was a bitter taste in William Turner's mouth. God forgive him. God help them all.


End file.
